Iowa's custody laws put fathers at disadvantage

Two-year-old Mason Wyckoff hadn’t seen his father, Dillon, in eight days — the longest time they had ever been apart.

Since breaking up with Mason’s mother, Stephenie Erickson, Dillon had taken every possible step to inform the authorities of the risk that she posed to the toddler. He had been in touch with the Iowa Department of Human Services twice in the past 10 months, talked to state and local police repeatedly, and even had Erickson committed over mental health concerns in September 2015 — months before they broke up.

Even after DHS investigated Erickson, she retained custody of Mason.

Dillon says Erickson had repeatedly threatened the boy and started keeping him away from his father in the days prior to the morning of July 22, when police found the child dead and his mother unconscious in her Grimes home. Erickson died Thursday. A cause of death has not been released.

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Questions follow 2-year-old’s death in home he shared with mother.
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Why couldn’t this father protect his child against such an imminent threat?

In short, because he was the father.

Since I first became involved in Iowa politics, there have been two issues that people have approached me about more personally and passionately than any other: immigration and child custody.

While discussions about gun rights or campaign finance can stay reasonably cool and politely distant, talking to frantic parents trying to claw their way to enough political influence to get their child back is a different experience entirely.

When I was a single guy just dipping my toes into political activism and writing, talking to these folks was always a bit uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure why they were coming to me rather than a lawyer or judge, and I tried to be as gentle as possible in my suggestion that they do the latter.

After a little research, though, I began to understand why they were forced to make their case to young campaign volunteers.

Iowa’s legislative and judicial systems weren’t listening.

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Balloons were released and a candlelight vigil was held for Mason Wyckoff, 2, in Grimes, Iowa, Sunday July 24, 2016, after he was found dead Friday morning and his mother 33-year old Stephanie Erickson, was found unconscious. (Photo: Rodney White/The Register)

My research turned up allegations of child kidnapping, parental alienation, criminal neglect and judicial favoritism from parental rights activists long frustrated by a lack of legislative interest in solving Iowa’s family law problems.

But one specific flaw seemed to emerge more prominently: sexism.

When I spoke with Dillon, I asked him if he felt Iowa’s custody and child care laws are biased against fathers.

“One hundred percent,” he answered without hesitation. “The family law is more about lawyers and money instead of the children.”

His custody battle started where most unmarried child care battles start: with the mother awarded full custody, and the father left in the cold.

“The law states since I was not married at [the] time of birth she had primary custody, and I had absolutely nothing until paternal rights were identified at a cost of $1,500 minimum,” Dillon told me. “We were attempting 50/50 custody, but she was not obliging and pretty much had me meet a list of demands to see my child.”

His case isn’t unique.

Bryan Iehl, founder and president of advocacy group IowaFathers, insists that Iowa's law maintains a bias against fathers. A 2011 study on the group’s website claims mothers are awarded sole custody in 73 percent of judicially-decreed arrangements, while fathers gain sole custody in only 8 percent of cases.

Iehl noted that several bills creating a presumption of shared parenting have successfully passed the Iowa House, only to die in the Senate — including one this year.

In an age where every demographic imbalance is hailed as evidence of racism, sexism or one of a host of other biases, it’s remarkable that such a massive disparity has garnered so little attention.

The numbers seem to match national Census Bureau data, but Iowa-specific studies are hard to find.

The local tragedy has also drawn the attention of Iowa’s largest pro-family organization, The Family Leader. In a statement, Vice President Chuck Hurley responded to the Grimes incident with a call for accountability.

“Government's main job is to punish evil acts, such as this boy's apparent murder, which hopefully prevents many similar acts in the future,” Hurley said. “That job may include punishing negligent acts by those who should have prevented Mason's death; and it may include passing new laws requiring earlier intervention when children are in danger.”

Mason and his father fell into a gap in Iowa’s enforcement mechanism, where government agencies not only failed to intervene when a credible threat emerged, but accompanying policies made it harder for the responsible parent to act independently to mitigate that threat.

In fact, according to Iowa code, any attempt by Dillon to remove his son would have earned him a felony charge.

What if custody of Mason had been granted based on mental stability and life situation, rather than on gender?

What if the couple had not still been tangled in custody proceedings three months after their split, when the father knew his son was in danger?

What if he had the ability to legally remove his own son from that dangerous situation while seeking a ruling that would protect the child until the mother’s mental health and ability to care for Mason could be appropriately ascertained?

What if Iowa’s laws presumed equal custody rights, and sought to minimize conflict between parents, rather than forcing one parent to fight an uphill battle to maintain a relationship with his children?

Dillon believes there is a path forward, and his family has suggested that path may be political or legislative in nature.

“Everything should be started out as 50/50, not all the mother and go from there,” he said. “I fully support the fathers’ rights movement and their purpose."

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Joel Kurtinitis(Photo: Michael Zamora/The Register)

JOEL KURTINITIS is a first-generation homeschooler, conservatarian writer and millennial political activist, who contributes regular columns to the Register. Joel and his family live in Perry. Follow Joel on Facebook at www.facebook.com/jkurtinitis or on Twitter @Joel_Kurtinitis